Dreamwalker
by dragonlots
Summary: Victoria takes a mystical journey that might or might not, reflect the future of the Canon family.


Dreamwalker

Dana Bell

Blue white lightening zagged through the night sky. Companion thunder shook the china resting on the shelves. Victoria trembled, afraid of both the violent storm and that her precious dishes would fall and break. She'd ordered them from Paris and they would be difficult, if not impossible, to replace.

Her husband, John Cannon, had gone to Tucson on business, leaving her in the care of her brother, Manolito who no doubt was gambling and drinking, and Buck, John's younger brother. While they often joined the two of them for supper, they enjoyed hanging out with the ranch hands in the bunk house.

With a smile, Victoria remembered John had taken Blue with him. Father and son needed time together. She just hoped her husband realized Blue was a man now and not the boy who had first come to this harsh land.

Dousing the lights, she walked up the stairs to the bedrooms. She stopped to check on Cochica. The young girl had come to them when a group of Apaches abandoned her near the ranch. While hostilities between Indian and the army had eased over the years, the severe drought had caused many clashes over water.

Victoria remembered the day fondly.

They had been at breakfast when the door burst open. Blue carried the young girl in and put her on the couch. "Pa!"

John, her large, older husband, rose from the table, a glare on his craggy face. "What is the meaning of this?"

"I found her," Blue began. With his light hair and eyes, Victoria assumed he looked like his deceased mother Annalee.

"Take her right back where you found her."

"Look at her," Blue argued back. "She's been beaten." He pointed at the bruises on her arms. "She ain't nothin' but skin and bones."

Victoria hurried to examine the child. Her clothes hung on her body and her ribs shown through.

"They'll come back for her."

"I do not think so, senor." Monolito shook his head. He looked dapper as always. "I've heard talk in town. Many children, captives, have been left behind."

"He's right, John," Buck agreed. How anyone could always wear black in the host sun, Victoria didn't understand. "The army has been ruthless about taking back captives. Maybe this drought -"

"Pushed the Apache to agree." John nodded. "Maybe."

Blue jumped in. "It ain't fair to leave her there. She'll die."

"We do need to see if she has family. If so, they'll want her back. Victoria, see what you can do." Her husband returned to finish his breakfast.

"Blue, would you bring her upstairs," she requested.

"Sure." He lifted the girl and followed Victoria upstairs. She'd shooed him out and bathed the cyild, putting her in one of her husband's clean shirts.

It had been hard to get the girl to eat. Even harder to earn her trust when Cochica thought the Cannons were going to send her away.

In the end, John had no luck in finding Cochica's family and Victoria welcomed the girl into their family. She treated her as the daughter she'd come to accept she would never have.

Blue, enjoyed playing big brother to Chochica. Manolito and Buck spoiled her as her uncles. John, while friendly to the girl, hadn't fully accepted her yet. It always seemed to take her husband longer.

Cochica's dark hair spread out over the pillow. She tossed back the covers and Victoria gently recovered her. Desert nights could be cold. The girl had grown and would no doubt blossom into a beautiful young lady.

Quietly closing the door, Victoria returned to her room. She took down her hair and brushed it, enjoying the feel of the black strands in her hand. Sharing the room with her husband had not proved as difficult as she'd feared. Granted, their marriage had been an alliance between her father Don Sebastian Montoya and John Cannon. The only reason she'd agreed was because her husband had a dream, the one thing she had been searching for.

Their room was not as fancy as the one she'd had grown up in. That did not matter to her. It had proved cozy and comfortable and perfect for the two of them.

Undressing, she pulled on her gown and took a moment to gaze out. The storm still brewed, dropping heavy and much needed rain onto the thirsty desert. Lightening flashed in the distance and the shaking thunder took longer to reach her house. No doubt her china was safe now.

She closed the window and curtains, making it seem extremely stuffy. With the many dangers of they faced, she dared not leave them open. Fanning herself, it became more and more difficult to breathe. She reached for the bed, missed it and did not have time to brace herself before her body dropped to the floor and darkness descended.

When Victoria awoke, sunlight streamed through the window. A hot wind invaded the room. She frowned. She distinctly remembered closing it. Struggling to her feet, she was shocked to find it open and curtains hanging in shreds. Sand covered the floor and thick dust had buried broken furniture. In the corner, a heavy web hung, overrun with bug corpses.

"I just cleaned this room," she murmured, trying to grasp what she saw.

She stumbled to the door. It barely hung on. Fearing to touch it, Victoria went out into the hallway. The walls had cracked and the floor had buckled.

"What happened?"

Terrified, she cautiously hurried down the hallway and out into the main living area. All the furniture was gone. The windows were all broken and the shattered door littered the stone.

Silence invaded. No familiar sounds of horses or cows or ever the men's voices.

Outside, the bunk house poked black burned fingers into the air. The water tower had rotted away and the fence as gone. The gateway stood, yet the High Chaparral sign hung down, banging against the wood.

Sagebrush and cactus met her eyes as far as she could see. Blue sky above and sand, sagebrush and cactus, below.

What had happened to her husband's dream? Had she somehow failed him by not producing a child?

Victoria sank to her knees, covering her face with her hands. Hot tears burned her cheeks. "No!" she wailed. "This can not be!"

"What can not be?" a ghostly voice asked.

Gasping, she rose to her feet, desperately looking for the voice. "Who are you?"

A figure stepped out of the heat waves. It walked, or did float, toward her, wearing clothes she had never seen. They were bright, as the rare rainbow and shimmered in the sun. Victoria realized the affect was caused by millions of beads.

Feathers decorated dark hair and odd deep blue eyes stared out of a copper face. A hunting knife hung on a rawhide belt and it wore moccasins. It took a second look to realize the figure was a woman.

"Who are you and where is my family?" Victoria demanded, even as fear of the worst possible Indian attack filled her mind.

"I am a Dreamwalker." Her calloused hands indicated the ranch. "This is but one possible outcome."

"I don't understand."

"That is why I have been sent. Come." The Indian woman turned toward the gate. "Follow me to see more."

Unsure what to do, Victoria hesitated. Vaguely she heard her name called and looked toward the house. Cochica briefly appeared and before vanishing into the shadows.

"Come," her guide beckoned again. "My time is short."

Frightened, Victoria followed, wondering why she didn't feel the sun's hot breath. She walked with the other through the gate and found herself once more standing before the main house. The scene before her now completely different than the absolute desolation she'd found before.

An odd hard substance made a semi-circle coming in and out of two different gates. The wooden fence had been replaced by stones. Buggies, but without horses, were parked in front of a building with large closed doors.

Blaring music escaped the house. Other buildings had been built and were painted in bright pinks, greens, turquoise, yellow, purple and orange.

Two children ran out the door laughing, tossing a ball. Both wore hardly anything.

"Race you to the swimming pool!' a little boy who reminded her of Blue shouted.

"I'll win!" answered a girl with dark Mexican hair and olive skin.

They disappeared around the house. She could hear their echoing giggles.

"What is this?" Victoria turned to her guide.

"Another possible future."

"Dependent on what?" Her heart began to pound and her head hurt.

"On how the past unfolds."

"That is not an answer."

The woman tilted her head. "Come." Again she headed for the gate. With no choice Victoria went with her. Once again they emerged facing the main house of High Chaparral.

Again, there were differences. The front of the house had been covered with glass. On the roof a garden grew, its lush greenness a contrast to the endless sand.

A loud noise rumbled overhead. Glancing up, she stepped backward, wanting to run. A silver craft cast a dark shadow before lifting its nose, like a bird and slowly pushed into the blue cloudless sky.

"They just launched for Mars, Dad!" a girl shouted. She ran outside, covering her eyes with her hand to watch. She wore a light pale dress.

A man joined her, wearing a white tunic and matching pants. He touched the girl's shoulder.

"Will we every join them, Dad?"

"Perhaps, one day, when our family again has a dreamer like John Cannon was, Victoria."

"And you named me for his wife." She heard the pride in the girl's voice.

The man smiled. "We did indeed. Now come inside. Your mother has dinner ready."

He went inside. The girl waited, watching the thing in the sky.

Not able to believe what she heard, she asked her guide, "What year is this?"

"A future that is not yet written."

Victoria hated her guide for never giving a straight answer. What she did know, and was happy about, is that her husband, John Cannon, and herself, would be remembered.

"You need to return now," her guide said.

"But I have many questions."

"The answers to which you will learn on your own."

The girl stared out over the desert and her eyes met Victoria's. "Hey, Dad, the ghosts are here again!"

"Victoria, there are no such things as ghosts."

"Tell them." She pointed to the pair.

Her father looked out. "All I see is the desert. Your mother is waiting dinner on us."

The girl waved and reluctantly went inside.

"Are they great, great, great grandchildren of Blue's?"

The Dreamwalker gave her an odd look. She leaned forward to whisper something. Victoria did not hear her. A roaring sound filled her ears and she opened her eyes, to find her head cradled in Cochica's lap.

"I heard you fall."

Slowly Victoria sat up. "How long have I been lying here?"

"Not long."

She heard John's and Blue's voices. He must have returned. "I should make them something to eat."

"What did the Dreamwalker show you?"

"What? How did you-"

"The medicine man taught me."

"Please, do not say anything to my husband." Victoria knew the experience must never be shared.

"Such journeys are only for the one who took them. Unless," she tilted her head, "you were told something you should share."

"No." Victoria shook her head. "You should be in bed." She took Cochica's hand and tucked the girl in.

"The Dreamwalker did tell you something. They always do."

"If so, I do not remember. Now to go to sleep, Cochica." She kissed the girl's forehead.

Back in the hall she listened to father and son talk. They seemed at ease with each other. It made her happy. She would go down in a moment to say hello. First, she wanted to look nice.

Quickly she changed her clothes, choosing to wear John's favorite. He loved her in her pink top with a slightly darker matching skirt. She left her hair down.

As she reached the door, she felt dizzy and hoped her fall had not left any lasting injury. Her husband deserved a proper greeting, not a wife he would have to take care of.

With a final glance out the window, she felt relief to see the storm had finally stopped. No lightening flashed. No thunder shook the house. Her dream seemed to fade despite it having been so real.

No, not completely faded. The final words the Dreamwalker had whispered rushed back into her mind. "You will give your husband a daughter in the spring."

She hoped one of the promising visions she'd seen meant the Cannon family survived and did not die out, the house and land forgotten.

"Thank you," she whispered into the room and went downstairs to greet her husband.

No, I don't own these characters or show. This is a practice attempt at writing a Western, even though it turned into a Weird Western.


End file.
